


The Silent Hour of Night

by spectaculacularsammy



Series: Ficlets, Plaid, and Pie, OH My! [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Ficlet, understated smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 12:03:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3119501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spectaculacularsammy/pseuds/spectaculacularsammy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam wakes you up in the middle of the night.</p><p>Title is inspired by the poem, <i>Night</i>, by Anne Brontë</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Silent Hour of Night

Everything is dark when you wake up to the smell of musk and feel a small kiss press into the back of your neck. You sleepily sigh and snuggle into the firm warmth behind you, while lips kiss down your neck, and gentle fingertips slide a borrowed plaid shirt off your shoulder. For every inch the sleep wrinkled collar is pulled down, a snap pops open in the front, and a breathy chuckle escapes the mouth pressed into your skin.

Once the last snap gives way, strong hands free you from cotton and plaid, and the warmth that was once pressed into your back is positioned above you, while dark chestnut hair hangs in your face and tickles your cheeks.

Gentle kisses are shared while long and tanned fingers blindly graze up the soft skin of your breasts and over the points of your nipples. The soft moans that escape your mouth are answered with heavy breaths and lips that turn needy and urgent; like _enough_ isn’t even an option, only _more_.

As lips make their way down your body, so do hands, and they find their home under the blankets. A warm tongue swirls and sucks on the peaked skin of your breasts, while long fingers circle slowly in warm and wet folds, and your desperate hips press up against an equally desperate and dripping line of heat.

Then need takes over.

Huge hands part your thighs further, and lips find yours again as a hard and thick arousal slowly fills you up. A duet of moans sounds in the air when hips are pressed into hips and _soft_ and _gentle_ aren’t even words anymore.

Hips move at a speed that’s both frenzied and intense, bodies writhe with skin that’s sweat damp and slick, and it’s not the blankets that surround you anymore; it’s heat and hands and need.

The perfect friction, angle, and pressure combined with clenched fists and rough kisses, make the dark room go bright white, and then everything falls perfectly still.

Slowly, gentle kisses return, the breaths coming from above you are hot and humid, while the dark chestnut hair, now damp with sweat, once again tickles your face.

The room is still dark, and the world is still asleep, but lips blindly kiss up your jaw, searching for your mouth while hips press into you one more time before gently pulling away.

The blankets are back, and the warmth is wrapped all around you, this time in the form of cotton and skin. When your lips find a sweaty collar bone and kiss it softly, a contented sigh comes from above you, and strong hands pull you up to find your lips once again.          

Soft fingertips roam up the skin of your back and move up and down until your eyelids grow heavy. The lips pressed against your cheek softly whisper in the dark, “Go back to sleep.”

Nuzzling into the firm chest below you, you let the darkness of the night and the room comfort you, and when sleep returns, it’s once again filled with the scent of musk and warmth.


End file.
